Kyoto Interlude
by omasuoniwabanshi
Summary: On a visit to Kyoto, Yahiko searches for the past and finds more than he bargained for.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Rurouni Kenshin's characters or plot.

**A/N**: Several years have passed since the events in the Kyoto and Jinchu arcs of the Rurouni Kenshin anime series. Yahiko is now a teenager and Kenshin is married to Kaoru.

**TERMS:**

**Bakumatsu** – War in Japan between the shogun's forces (including the shinsengumi) and the Ishin Shishi who were loyal to the emperor. Kenshin fought on the side of the Ishin Shishi's pro-imperial forces under Katsura Kogoro of Choshu

**Aizu** – A han (a district) in Japan that was loyal to the shogun

**Seppuku** – Ritual suicide method used by samurai

CHAPTER ONE

There was one thing on Yahiko's mind, escape. He had to escape from the Aioya or he'd go crazy.

If he had to listen to Misao bragging one more time about how beautiful, adorable, or smart her baby was, he'd go insane. It wasn't that he didn't like Misao. Misao was OK, especially now that she'd mellowed a bit. She'd always be a livewire, but now that she'd snagged Aoshi she was too busy being a wife and a new mother to torment Yahiko like she used to. However, she was still being completely annoying, only in different way. Everything was the baby, the baby, the baby. How much he ate, slept, and wet himself was the topic of every conversation with her. She'd even tried to get Yahiko to help change the kid's diapers!

Diapers! Yahiko was the son of a samurai from a long line of samurai. He was NOT a nursemaid.

Yahiko stomped down the stairs grumbling to himself.

It was bad enough that he'd agreed to accompany Kenshin and Kaoru to Kyoto, not to fight a psychopath bent on taking over Japan like the last time, but to visit Misao and see her baby. Yahiko didn't even want to think about how the hyperactive weasel girl managed to get Aoshi to marry her. Why she'd want a cold, silent beanpole like Aoshi was beyond him, but at least she seemed happy.

Walking through the hustle and bustle of the Aioya's main room, Yahiko knew he wouldn't find any peace there. The restaurant was full of patrons, and the noise level reflected that. In the midst of the sound of chopsticks clicking against serving bowls, chatter, and the slurping noises of hungry customers inhaling noodles or drinking down tea, Yahiko longed for a minute's quiet.

As he looked around for the best route through the tables, he remembered what he'd seen the night before. Yahiko, Kenshin, and Kaoru had been at the Aioya for a week, and were using the rooms usually rented out to paying guests. In the middle of the night he'd left his futon to go use the latrine out back. From the backyard he'd seen a light on in Misao and Aoshi's room on the second storey. The baby was fussing, and he'd seen Misao's silhouette through the fuzzy diffused light of the rice paper windows. Her silhouette, a slight black shadow against the white panes, bent down and picked up a bundle, obviously the baby, and held it close.

Another silhouette, tall and lean, came to stand next to Misao's. Her head raised, and Yahiko clearly saw the outline of her chin move as she said something to Aoshi. His hand came down gently on the bundle that was his newborn son. Yahiko couldn't be sure, but Aoshi seemed to be wrapping the blanket more securely around the child. Then Aoshi's silhouette dipped down and he and Misao's faces met.

Yahiko found himself grinning like a fool at the sight. Years ago when he'd first come to Kyoto in search of Kenshin, he'd have made barfing noises or rude comments at the thought of Misao kissing her longtime obsession. He guessed that meant he'd grown up a bit, but everyone still treated him like a child.

It didn't help that he was still short for his age, and he'd always be the youngest of the Kenshingumi.

"Oh, Yahiko!" Okon, the tallest and prettiest of the Aioya waitresses, raised her tray above Yahiko's head to keep him from running into it. She'd straightened and turned just as Yahiko tried to dodge around the table she'd been serving. "Where are you off to in such a hurry?"

Where could he go? Behind him were the steps leading upstairs to the living quarters. Over Okon's shoulder was the doorway to the kitchen where Kaoru and Omasu were holding up a tiny kimono Kaoru had spent hours sewing for the baby and making little feminine squeals of delight. Yahiko shuddered. Not that way! That left only one other exit.

"Out," he told Okon firmly.

The woman smiled. "You're going sightseeing?" She lowered her tray to chest level and stepped back to allow a couple of middle-aged patrons, a man and a woman, to brush past on their way out the front entrance. "Be careful you don't get lost," she warned, and with a last smile she raised her tray up over his head and walked around him to the kitchen.

Yahiko opened his mouth to tell her only little kids get lost and he wasn't a kid anymore, then closed it abruptly, realizing that would make him sound childish. Swallowing an exasperated sigh he clumped out the Aioya's entrance, holding the shinai slung over his back so it wouldn't touch the doorposts on the way out.

When would they learn that he wasn't a child who had to be protected and coddled? There had to be some way to prove himself, something he could do to show them all, but the days of daring feats of bravery were over. The stories of samurai willing to risk everything in epic battles were just that now, stories of a time past. There were no more battles in Japan. The Bakumatsu was over, and Yahiko supposed he should be happy about that. After all, wasn't that what Kenshin fought for all those years ago? Wasn't that what he still, on occasion, fought to protect? Yahiko just wanted a chance to do the same. Was that so bad? He'd worked hard to become stronger, and now he longed for a chance to prove himself.

As he wandered down street after narrow street, he realized he'd been unconsciously following the couple who'd left the Aioya in front of him. They'd stopped by a sandal shop and were asking directions.

"Mibu Village?" The sandal maker's toothless wife echoed querulously. "Why would you want to go to a run down old place like that? Kyoto proper is much nicer."

"Gomen," the Aioya patron said. He was middle aged, wearing an old fashioned patterned kimono, and he was holding solicitously to his wife's elbow. "Kyoto is indeed beautiful, but we heard that Mibu Village was once the headquarters of the shinsengumi, and we wanted to see it."

His wife, also middle aged, nodded eagerly. "My husband is a bit of a scholar, and he's thinking of writing a book about the war. That's why we're here in Kyoto."

"A book, hmm?" The elderly sandal maker stroked his chin and sighed. "Why bring up those horrible old days? Those shinsengumi were bad news."

"Killers!" interjected his wife, nodding her head so vehemently that her grey hair in its upswept bun threatened to come loose from its hairpins. "No one was safe with those wolves roaming around. They'd kick in your door if they so much as thought you were hiding a man from Choshu or Satsuma, and they wouldn't pay for the damage either if it turned out they were wrong."

"Now, now, mother," the sandal maker patted his wife calmingly on her shoulder. "What else do you expect? They were ronin samurai after all."

"That's just it!" the man in the kimono said excitedly. "They were samurai. If no one writes about what the samurai were like, the younger generation will never know. How can we let such valuable information be lost forever?"

The sandal maker and his wife looked at each other, then back at the couple staring hopefully at them.

The sandal maker seemed to come to a decision. "Well, if you want to get information about the shinsengumi, you won't have much luck in Mibu village. I heard that both the Yagi and Maekawa families don't like to be reminded of the time when they were forced to take on the shinsengumi as boarders in their homes. They're more likely to spit in your eye and send you packing than help you. Now their other headquarters…"

"Other headquarters?"

Nodding sagely, the sandal maker continued. "Their second headquarters was right in the city. They moved here to Kyoto proper right before they left to fight in the north. They stayed at a Buddhist temple, Nishihonganji Temple, I think it was. I can draw you a map."

"Yoshi here is good with maps," the sandal maker's wife said, and led the way into their shop.

Yahiko stayed outside in the street, watching the four people disappear through the doorway of the sandal shop. Nishihonganji Temple, huh?

He'd once seen Hajime Saitoh fight Kenshin. The fury and savagery of that sword fight was the first real glimpse he'd had into Kenshin's past during the Bakumatsu. Kenshin and Saitoh had fought each other to a standstill. Somehow the image of the cruel policeman in a serene temple sparked Yahiko's interest. Kenshin never liked to speak of the past, and Yahiko respected that and didn't try to pry into it anymore.

Saitoh, on the other hand…Maybe visiting one of the shinsengumi headquarters wasn't such a bad idea. The shinsengumi were once called the wolves of Mibu, and though they were on the losing side of the war, people still spoke of them with respect. As the old guy just said, they were, after all, samurai.

Hitching his shinai up firmly on his back, Yahiko set out to find Nishihonganji temple.

It took a lot longer than he'd thought it would. The directions he got from two cackling crones sunning themselves on a bench outside a tavern led him to the wrong temple. The Shinto priest in charge of it laughed uproariously at the thought of shinsengumi living in his temple, and gave Yahiko directions that led back across town in the opposite direction. To add insult to injury, he'd tousled Yahiko's hair as he sent him on his way.

Scowling, Yahiko stomped back through the streets, realizing he'd gone hours out of his way thanks to the old crones. If he'd been a real samurai he wouldn't have been laughed at or had his hair mangled.

A real samurai, like his father…

Yahiko barely remembered his dad. All he had were indistinct impressions really. He'd seen other samurai when he was a little kid though. You could always tell when a samurai walked down the street. They had a presence that made people step out of the way. They also usually scowled.

Yahiko's steps slowed as his memory kicked in. He'd been just a little kid, clutching his mother's kimono skirt, watching a group of samurai walking down the street. He could feel the sense of menace wafting off of them as they glared this way and that. That was it! That glare. Just carrying a weapon wasn't enough; you had to have the patented samurai glare.

Glancing around, Yahiko saw that he was coming to a crossroads. When he passed it, he would start practicing his samurai glare. That decided, Yahiko scrunched up his face, straightened his back, and marched down the street.

No one noticed.

It was discouraging.

He came to a residential section and crossed a bridge into a courtyard area with a well in the center. A group of children were playing along the wall of a row of one-room dwellings.

"You can't come with us, you're too little!" a boy's voice called out truculently. He and two other boys were facing down a little girl who was pulling a small wooden horse on wheels behind her on a string. She was a cute little thing, maybe two or three years old, wearing a green and white kimono, with a matching green ribbon in her hair.

"Why not?" she asked quaveringly.

"Because, we don't want you, so go back to mother," came the boy's quick reply.

"yeah!" the two other boys chimed in jeeringly.

The boy, about ten or so, grabbed his sister's shoulder, spun her around and gave her a hard shove in the opposite direction that sent her stumbling to keep her balance. "Now get out of here and stop following me."

The other boys laughed.

Yahiko's eyes narrowed. He came level with the boys and stopped.

As they turned to see who'd paused by them, Yahiko gave them his best samurai scowl. "Stop messing with that girl," he ordered angrily. It irritated him to see someone being bullied just because they were small.

Yahiko could see the boys' eyes notice the shinai strapped to his back. Their faces paled.

"We…we were just…" began one of them, then he turned and ran. The other two, including the girl's brother, exchanged scared glances then took off after him.

Triumphant, Yahiko turned back to the girl, forgetting to remove his patented samurai scowl.

The little girl's eyes grew big. She took a step backward and tripped over her wooden horse, falling squarely on her bottom.

Instantaneously, her eyes filled up with tears and she began to wail.

Yahiko's jaw dropped. This wasn't what was supposed to happen! He wanted to help her, not scare her to death.

"Hey, um…don't cry. I'm not going to hurt you!" Yahiko tried to make his expression and voice as reassuring as possible, but the girl just screwed her eyes shut and wailed even louder.

Yahiko glanced nervously around the courtyard, praying that someone, anyone, would come outside and take the girl off his hands, but no one came. Evidently crying children weren't a matter for concern around here.

What was he supposed to do? Misao always picked up her baby, slung him over her shoulder and bounced him gently when he cried, but this little girl was too big for that.

"Come on, please stop crying! Please?" Yahiko begged, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

The little girl simply sat there, clenching her hands in the dirt, crying loudly as if her heart would break.

With another desperate glance around for help, Yahiko realized he'd have to take matters into his own hands. Kneeling down next to the girl, he reached out gingerly and rubbed her back. He'd seen Misao do that to her baby and it always seemed to calm him down.

What happened next was completely unexpected.

The little girl gulped, turned, and buried her face in Yahiko's chest, her little hands clenching the fabric of his gi, transferring the dirt from the ground firmly into the fabric of his top. Yahiko sighed. It looked like Kenshin was going to have more laundry to do when he got back.

Not worried about the dirt anymore now that his gi was slated for the laundry basket, Yahiko shifted so he was sitting on the ground, and put his arms around the child. He tried making the comforting shushing noises Misao always did when her baby cried.

He didn't know how long he'd sat there waiting while the girl's sobs became fewer and fewer, but eventually the storm passed and she was down to desultory hiccoughing noises. Yet she kept her face buried in his now wet gi.

"You gonna be OK now, kid?" Yahiko asked anxiously.

"Takiko? Takiko? Where are you?"

A woman's voice preceded her as she came around the edge of the building at the far end of the courtyard. Yahiko looked up and saw a plain looking woman in a grey and white striped kimono with worry in her eyes changing to relief at the sight of the little girl in Yahiko's arms.

The little girl, Takiko, raised her head and yelled, "Momma!"

The minute she loosened her grip, Yahiko pulled gently back and stood up.

"She tripped and fell!" he explained in a rush. "I was just trying to help and…"

The woman nodded distractedly, but didn't seem to be listening as she swept towards her child, dropping to her knees in front of Takiko, who scrambled to her feet, the wooden horse toy forgotten at her side.

"Did you fall down, baby?" the woman asked gently.

Takiko nodded. "I fell down and hurt myself."

Yahiko breathed a sigh of relief. The last thing he needed was for the woman to think he'd been abusing her kid.

"Oh, poor honey!" Takiko's mother's voice showed concern, but a laughing one. "Where does it hurt?" she asked.

"Right here!" Takiko crowed, turned around and lifted her kimono skirt.

The minute Yahiko saw the edge of her diapers, he gathered his manly samurai dignity around him and promptly fled.

Was there nowhere in the city of Kyoto safe from diapers?

TO BE CONTINUED


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

It was late when Yahiko finally found himself at the main gate of the Nishihonganji Temple. The late afternoon sun bathed the wooden support logs in a golden glow, the gate's broad lintel beam arching over the supports like a drawn bow. Yahiko couldn't help but notice he was the only one entering. Everyone else seemed to be leaving. Well, he hadn't come this far to be dissuaded by that! Straightening his spine, Yahiko crossed the threshold of the gate and entered the temple precincts.

It was huge, far bigger than the small Shinto temple he'd gone to by mistake. There was a tall, imposing two-storey drum tower, and several large tile roofed buildings were scattered around the spacious compound.

Yahiko felt his eyes grow big. How many shinsengumi were there, to fill a place this large? He tried to imagine fifty, no, a hundred Saitohs roaming around and felt a little sick. Kenshin had gone up against a veritable army. How had he done it?

Yahiko swallowed. Kenshin had done it because he was a hero. He'd fought hundreds of samurai because that's what his sense of honor demanded, back in the days when honor, when the samurai code, bushido, mattered. No wonder Tomoe had fallen for him.

But who would fall for Yahiko?

He thought of Tsubame, her warm brown eyes, soft brown hair and gentle face. What had he ever done to deserve her adoration? What chance did he have of ever showing her what he was made of? Sure, he'd fought Otowa Hyoko, one of Enishi's minions, but he'd promptly lost consciousness right after defeating him. It was humiliating! Otowa, for all his hidden shadow weapons, was still just one man. Kenshin had fought off an army of enemies.

Discouraged, Yahiko let his head hang low and kept his eyes fixed on the flagstone path under his feet as he followed it around one of the temple buildings.

Suddenly, he noticed a pair of shiny black western style shoes at the end of navy blue pant clad legs standing squarely on the path before him.

"What are you doing here, kid?" a voice asked gruffly.

Yahiko bristled. "Looking around, what's it to you? It ain't against the law," he answered truculently, fed up with being reminded yet again that everyone in his life saw him as a kid.

He raised his head to glare at the man and found himself staring at a broad chest covered in navy blue wool with gold buttons. Yahiko realized that the top of his head only came up to the man's sternum. He noted, as he wrenched his gaze further upwards, that the man had a gun on his belt and a brimmed cap on his head. He was a security guard and he had to be over six feet tall and so solidly built that Yahiko guessed he probably weighed about 300 pounds. His legs and arms were like tree trunks.

Compared to this guy, Yahiko looked like a flea. He gulped, clenched his fists and refused to be intimidated, standing his ground the way a samurai should, chin lifted and eyes narrowed, meeting the guard's gaze implacably.

The security guard stared back at him for a minute, then answered Yahiko's question.

"No, it's not against the law, but we're closing."

Yahiko felt the tension leaving his body as he deflated. He'd come all this way just to reach the temple as it closed. He'd never get another chance to see it again. It was a miracle he'd been able to slip away as it was. By the time he got back to the Aioya he'd be in for it for not telling anyone where he'd gone. Kaoru acted like a big sister, fussing over him even if he was just a little bit late.

"Oh," he said, disappointed. "I didn't know."

The guard was silent for a moment, then his mouth quirked. "We aren't closed quite yet. Come on, I'll show you around if you're interested."

Without waiting to see Yahiko's reaction, he pivoted and began to walk away, his large strides taking him down the path quickly.

Yahiko shook himself out of his stupor and followed, running until he came abreast of the man then slowing to a walk.

The guard grinned and shortened his stride a little bit. "The priests are gone on a retreat, so it's pretty quiet around here today," he said conversationally.

Yahiko made a noncommittal noise and concentrated on keeping up.

"So what do you want to see first?" the guard asked. "The drum tower? The main temple?"

"I want to see where the shinsengumi used to hang out." Yahiko told him.

The guard's steps slowed. "The shinsengumi?" he repeated slowly. "Why do you want to know about them?"

Yahiko shrugged. "I know someone who knew them, back in the Bakumatsu."

Yahiko felt the guard's gaze sharpen on him, but when he looked up at the man, he'd already looked away, and was gazing down the path with a faraway look in his eye, as if he wasn't really seeing the red and gold leaves of the small grove of maple trees at the end of the path.

For a minute, Yahiko thought the guard was going to refuse his request, but then the man said ruminatively, "Well then, you'll probably want to see the main meeting hall, that's where they lived when they were here. They partitioned it into barracks back then. It was the only building large enough to hold all of them."

For the next hour, the guard showed Yahiko around the temple grounds, answering his questions and leading him through the buildings the shinsengumi constructed, the bathhouse, the building they'd used for a jail, and even the gravel zen garden that covered what had once been their execution ground. The guard spent an extra minute at that one, staring at the peaceful designs raked into the gravel.

"A lot of men died here, enemies and shinsengumi both."

"Shinsengumi too?" asked Yahiko.

"Yes," the guard said gravely. "Seppuku."

Yahiko nodded. He'd heard of seppuku, a method of ritual suicide for samurai which was their last chance to die with honor. The ritual involved self-disembowelment. Samurai had to cut open their own stomachs before someone called a 'second', a friend usually, cut their head off to end their suffering.

"The shinsengumi had a set of strict rules, and the penalty for violating any of them was death. A lot of good men died here."

The guard's voice went soft, and Yahiko wasn't certain whether he meant that the good men who'd died were the men the shinsengumi captured, the shinsengumi forced to commit seppuku, or both. He supposed the guard had to be careful not to come down too strongly on one side or the other. Lots of people fought in the Bakumatsu, and it wasn't always easy to tell who had fought on which side.

Then the guard led him away to the other buildings and the moment passed. The man showed that he had a humorous streak too, and told stories that had Yahiko laughing helplessly, like the one about the time when the shinsengumi brought out their two canons to fire and the head priest was so startled by the noise that he fell face forward into his miso soup, and came tearing outside dripping wet to chastise the captain who'd ordered the canon fired. Yahiko listened, entranced, not caring that he was hanging on every word like a little kid being told a bedtime story. At last they ended up back near the front gate. Afternoon was merging into evening and the light was fading.

As they came to a stop by the temple gate, Yahiko stared back into the compound, now shadowy as the sun poured out its last golden rays of the day over the rooftops of the temple buildings.

While he stared, he seemed to see in his mind's eye the blue-coated shinsengumi crossing the temple precincts or sitting on the broad wooden engawas (the porches surrounding the buildings), cleaning their swords in preparation for going out on patrol to try to make the streets safe for the people of Kyoto. The guard's words made that time come alive for Yahiko, and he realized that even though they'd been fighting on the opposite side of Kenshin, the shinsengumi had done their best to live by their own code of honor, and to protect people their own way.

"I wish…" he began longingly, then stopped.

"What is it, kid?" the guard asked gruffly, but not unkindly. "What do you wish?"

"I wish I'd been able to see it, back when there were real samurai and bushido."

The guard laughed softly. "Bushido, huh?"

"Yeah, back when honor mattered." Yahiko muttered bitterly. Why had he been born too late to fight? To do something to prove what he believed in?

The guard stared at him, and the way he stared made Yahiko uncomfortable, as if he should be ashamed of something.

"Let me tell you something about bushido and the samurai ways. It's a good thing they're gone." The guard said abruptly, his voice going harsh all of a sudden.

Yahiko scrunched his face up in objection and bristled. His father was a samurai! There's no way he was going to let that remark pass unchallenged, but while he was trying to think up something to say, the guard sighed heavily.

"Come, sit over here with me. It's the best spot to watch the sunset," the older man said.

He led Yahiko to the engawa of a side building with a remarkable view of the sun sinking over the hills, and sat, legs trailing off the porch. Yahiko hesitated a moment, then sat beside him. He'd realized halfway through the tour that the guard had let him stay long past the time the temple was due to close. He supposed he owed him for that, and he had to admit, this was the best sunset he'd seen since coming to Kyoto.

From his seat on the polished wooden planks, Yahiko could see the pinks, oranges and yellows of the setting sun painting the clouds and bathing everything below in a warm glow. The dirty buildings and dark tiled roofs of Kyoto were softened and tinged with pink.

As the day faded, the guard's raspy voice went low, and his words became almost hypnotic. Yahiko listened without speaking, lulled by the words and the beauty of the scenery before him.

"It was after the Ikeda-ya incident where the shinsengumi massacred a whole bunch of the Choshu rebels at Ikeda-ya Inn for plotting to set fire to Kyoto and kidnap the emperor. Tempers were short at that time. The shinsengumi knew they hadn't caught all the loyalist rebels and they were keen to get their hands on the rest of them, including their leader, Katsura Kogoro. They heard a rumor that the Choshu rebels were meeting at a restaurant called the Akebono-tei up in the hills, so they gathered a squad and some samurai from Aizu and went after them.

When they got there they found the place was deserted except for one man. The guy took one look at the squad entering the restaurant and he took off like a rabbit. He jumped out a window and headed for the hills. You've got to remember, the shinsengumi had quite a reputation. Sometimes I think they themselves forgot how feared they were. Anyway, one of the Aizu samurai, a guy named Shiba Tsukasa, took off after the man, went right out the window and caught up with him. He stabbed the guy in the side.

Well, when the guy fell down, he started yelling, asking what was the big idea stabbing him? It was obvious from the guy's accent that he wasn't from Choshu at all. It turns out he was Asada Tokitaro, an official from Tosa, not Choshu. Now there were a few Tosa rebels, but the Lord who ruled over Tosa was loyal to the shogun, who the shinsengumi and the men of Aizu served. Tosa was an ally, not an enemy at all, and wounding a man from Tosa…well, let's just say it wasn't a very good idea.

Shiba, of course, was horrified at what he'd done. He apologized to Asada Tokitaro over and over. Shiba even ripped a piece off his own kimono to bind up the guy's wounds, but the damage was done.

As soon as they heard what happened to Asada, men from Tosa gathered in Kyoto to attack the shinsengumi and Aizu headquarters in revenge for Asada's wound. In order to stop that from happening, Shiba's best friend, Chiba Jiro, marched up to Tosa headquarters, kneeled down and committed seppuku right in front of them. Chiba thought that his death would satisfy Tosa's need for revenge, and save his friend and his comrades from Aizu from having to do battle with the men from Tosa.

When Shiba found out what his friend had done, and that his Lord, the Lord of Aizu, was still worried that the incident with Asada had ruined his alliance with Tosa, he decided that honor demanded his death as well. He had a last drink with his buddies, then cut his own belly. His two brothers were present. One of them delivered the coup-de-grace and decapitated him so he wouldn't suffer very long. Poor kid was only twenty-one when he died.

The Lord of Aizu had no idea Shiba meant to do that. When he found out, he immediately sent a message to Tosa, hoping that news of Shiba's suicide would placate them, but when the messenger got to the Tosa compound, he found that they were all in mourning. Asada Tokitaro, the guy who was wounded, had died by seppuku that same day."

The guard turned to Yahiko, his face shadowed so Yahiko couldn't really read his expression, he could only see the glistening white of the man's eyes. "So there you have it, three people dead, and for what? A stupid mistake. That's your bushido. I may not like the current government, but at least they got rid of stupid waste like that."

"But I don't get it. Why did Asada kill himself too?"

The guard sighed. "Bushido demands that you never run away, even if you're scared or completely outnumbered, you have to stand your ground. If someone wounds you, even accidentally and they apologize for it, you're supposed to fight them until they are dead. That's bushido."

"I thought bushido was about honor," Yahiko whispered softly, horrified at what he'd learned.

The guard let Yahiko process the information for a minute, then asked softly, "Why are you so interested in honor?"

Yahiko should have been insulted, and ordinarily he would have interpreted the question to mean 'why is a little kid like you concerned with honor? You're too young to know about such things,' but something about the way the guard asked the question lowered his defenses.

"My father was a samurai," he told him.

The guard nodded, as if that were a given. "I figured as much. Why else?"

"What do you mean, 'why else'?"

"Your father was a samurai who lived by bushido, so naturally you'd want to know more about it, but your interest seems a bit more personal. Usually if a man wants to know how he can become more honorable, it's because there's someone he wants to impress."

Yahiko colored. How did he…? Something about the warm night and the guard's gruff, kindly voice encouraged confidences. He found himself opening his mouth and saying things he'd never be able to say to the others. For a long time he'd wanted to become stronger just for the sake of being strong, but the guard was right. Yahiko had someone he wanted to be stronger for, someone he wanted to protect.

"There's this girl. Her name's Tsubame, and she works at a restaurant where I work part time. I'm a kendo instructor most of the time. Well, assistant instructor. I want to be worthy of her, but there's no way to prove it now that the war's over and bushido is dead." Yahiko heard the frustration in his voice, and it irritated him.

Yahiko couldn't be sure, but he thought he saw a flash of teeth as the guard smiled. "Just be yourself. If she doesn't like you the way you are, no feats of bravery will change that. My wife didn't marry me back when I was important, she married me after the war when I had nothing. That's true love. You want a girl like that, not one who needs you to prove something to her. What kind of a girl would she be if she were always demanding that you do things for her? What does she want, a man or a show-off?"

Yahiko frowned. Tsubame wasn't the sort of girl who made demands. She was shy and sweet. By trying to find a way to prove himself, was he implying that she was a demanding sort of girl?

"I never thought of it that way before," he said slowly.

The way the guard put it, it almost seemed like he was insulting Tsubame's character by wanting to prove himself.

Lost in his thoughts, he almost missed the guard's next question. "Do you like this girl?"

"Huh? Yes!' Yahiko answered adamantly, once the question registered.

"And does she like you?"

Images of Tsubame's gently rounded face came to Yahiko, and he was glad the guard couldn't see his expression because he knew he was grinning like a sentimental idiot as he recalled the way her eyes shone whenever he walked through the door of the Akebeko, and the way she'd fixed his sandal strap the first time they'd met, frowning over her work then smiling shyly at him when it was done.

"Yeah," he said gruffly. "She likes me too."

"Then you've got nothing to worry about," said the guard bracingly. "Just tell her how you feel about her. Women like hearing that more than they like hearing about what you've done for them. It took me years to figure that one out. Learn from my example, you'll have an easier time of it," he ended ruefully.

"Just tell her how I feel?"

"Yep."

Resolve hardened in Yahiko's chest. "I'll do it!" he announced, and jumped to his feet. Remembering his manners, he bowed quickly to the guard. "Thanks."

"You're welcome."

White teeth flashed again in the night as the guard smiled and waved a breezy salute as Yahiko gripped the strap of his shinai and rushed out the temple gate.

The guard continued to sit on the engawa. The sun was now completely gone, but the moon and stars were taking its place, illuminating the temple in a pale white light.

A shadow detached itself from a tree near the temple gate.

The guard looked up, his mouth hardening and muscles tense, but he remained seated.

"I wondered when you were planning to come out," he said gruffly, eyes going flat and emotionless as he caught sight of the red hair and cross shaped scar on the man's cheek.

"Have you come to settle old scores, Battousai?"

The shadow's voice rang out across the courtyard, calm and steady.

"As you've said, the days of bushido and samurai are dead. I have no wish to resurrect the past, that I do not," Kenshin said, keeping his arms crossed over his chest, and his hand away from the hilt of his sakabatou sword. He smiled, violet eyes warming slightly.

"Thank you, for saying what you said to Yahiko."

The guard nodded. "You're welcome."

Kenshin held his gaze a moment longer, feeling the guard's fighting ki relax. "Farewell, Shimada Kai of the shinsengumi."

"And you, Battousai."

For a moment it seemed as if the moonlight caught the fire in Kenshin's hair, and the guard's shorn locks were pulled up once again into a bushy topknot, a blue and white haori coat flowing off his shoulders, the ends pooling by his side on the engawa, then the moon passed behind a cloud and the moment faded.

With a last nod, the two old enemies bid one another goodbye, and Kenshin left the temple, making his way back to the Aioya through streets no longer haunted by wolves or rebels, going home to a wife who loved him and a bright teenaged boy who would never know the horror and uncertain times of the Bakumatsu. Like Kenshin, the shinsengumi spearman turned security guard knew of it firsthand, and had watched its dying embers burn out.

Shimada Kai had surrendered during the remnant of the Shinsengumi's last desperate days of fighting in Aizu. When it was clear that the Imperial side had won, Kenshin heard that the wounded Shimada had left his cover and stood up, facing his enemies. He'd been a sitting duck for the Imperial sharpshooters, but somehow his brave gesture impressed them. There he'd stood, sword sheathed, the shinsengumi contingent's banner wrapped around his waist like a sash, waiting for death.

No one could bear to shoot the solitary figure standing tall on the field of battle, and he'd been captured instead and later released after the war ground to its slow halt. He'd survived the war, and learned that there was more to life than battle. Kenshin let a slight smile appear on his lips as he thought back to Shimada's no-nonsense advice to Yahiko.

As Kenshin walked the familiar streets of Kyoto, his thoughts were filled, not with memories of the past, but thoughts of the future, a future both he and Shimada took part in making. The past was gone, and the future was what you made of it.

END CHAPTER TWO

**A/N:** I considered ending this story right here as a one-shot. The story started out as simply a way of introducing Yahiko to Shimada Kai so that he could hear the story of Shiba and Asada. However, as stories sometimes do, this one got away from me, so it will be continued in chapter three.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own Rurouni Kenshin characters.

CHAPTER THREE

Misao's baby caught a cold. Kaoru decided to stay another week to help, so Yahiko found himself going back to the temple to visit the guard and to hear more stories about when the shinsengumi lived there.

Once Sano showed up with a package of medicine sent by Megumi, Yahiko had even more reasons to slip away. Sano refused to treat Yahiko with the respect he deserved. He'd been away for years in China, and when he returned it was as if he expected everything to go back to the way it was. Stupid rooster-head.

Everyone knew Sano was the reason Megumi moved back to Tokyo from Aizu, to take over Dr. Genzai's practice when the old man's failing eyesight made it impossible for him to continue practicing medicine. Yahiko had to grudgingly admit that Sano was different around her now. He was on his best behavior with the lady doctor, and though they still sparred verbally as they had before, there was a gleam in their eyes that told Yahiko that the exchanges were leading somewhere. He wished Sano would just get it over with and ask Megumi to marry him. It was obvious that they both wanted to.

"Hey Yahiko-chan, have you finished helping Kenshin with the laundry? Misao wants to know if the diapers are dry yet."

Sano's voice called across the back yard of the Aioya. Yahiko flushed red and glared at the lazy bum leaning against the wall of the bustling restaurant, arms folded, chewing on his ever-present fishbone.

"In a minute!" Yahiko hollered back.

"There's something I thought I'd never see, Yahiko folding laundry. Isn't that Kenshin's job?" Sano drawled.

Yahiko jerked the last diaper off the clothesline and added it to the pile balanced over his arm. "Kenshin's out getting more pickled ginger for the restaurant since SOMEONE ate the last of it last night," he said, sending a glare at Sano.

Sano raised his hands in mock surrender. "They don't make pickled ginger in China the way they do here. I went for years without it. You can't blame a guy for making up for lost time."

"You're sure not in much of a hurry over Megumi," Yahiko muttered, stomping across the yard.

"What was that?" asked Sano.

"Nothing," growled Yahiko. Years before, he would have shouted it at Sano and added an insulting remark or two, but now he realized it wasn't worth it.

Okan and Omasu came out back just then, giggling over something cute the baby had done, and took the clean diapers from Yahiko, sweeping back into the restaurant in a swirl of aprons and thank-yous.

Yahiko followed them, Sano close on his heels, just as Kenshin returned through the side door bearing jars of pickled ginger in his arms.

The passageway became suddenly crowded as Kaoru skipped down the stairs to take the diapers from Okon and Omasu, and saw her husband waiting patiently for the knot of womenfolk blocking the way to dissipate.

"Kenshin! You're back!" Kaoru called out joyfully. "Misao's had the most wonderful idea. We're all going to help her finish that baby quilt she was talking about. We thought we'd get together tonight after the Aioya closes."

Okon and Omasu immediately began to murmur their approval of the plan, but Yahiko distinctly saw Kenshin wince before plastering his rurouni grin on his face.

Behind him, Yahiko heard Sano mutter, "Not if I can help it."

Sano's hand came down on Yahiko's shoulder reassuringly. "Tonight is gonna be a 'Guys night out'!" Sano promised.

Remembering the last 'Guys night out' and the subsequent hangover he'd endured the entire next day, Yahiko could barely repress a shudder. It was time for another trip to the temple.

It was easy to slip out during the dinner rush. Sano was always distracted by free food, and stuffed himself at dinnertime. Kaoru was usually too busy to do more than scold Yahiko absentmindedly whenever she noticed he'd disappeared for a few hours. Surprisingly, Kenshin usually defended Yahiko, telling Kaoru that young men needed to explore new cities, and that quieted Kaoru.

Truth was, Yahiko needed to get away from the Aioya at times. Aoshi could always retreat to his personal temple to meditate, and gain respite there. Kenshin didn't care about the bustle or baby talk, he seemed happy to be near Kaoru no matter what, and would put on his rurouni smile and endure. Sano's method of escape – drinking and gambling – gave Yahiko a headache, so Nishihonganji temple it was.

Yahiko found himself smiling at the thought of that oasis of peace in the big city. With the Buddhist priests gone on their month long retreat, once the gates closed to visitors the place was virtually deserted. The big security guard was on duty for the late afternoon to early morning shift, and Yahiko would sit with him to watch the sunset, listening to the man's words and picturing the courtyard filled with blue and white-coated figures.

Having perfected the quickest route to the temple, Yahiko slipped away and soon found himself at his accustomed spot, listening to his favorite guard's stories. It was their habit now, to sit and talk while the sun faded. There was no sense of hustle, bustle, or obligation, just two guys sitting and talking. It occurred to Yahiko that they didn't even know each other's names.

"Call me 'Big'," the man smiled and said when Yahiko asked his name.

"Suits you." Yahiko told him teasingly.

Big patted his stomach and grinned. "My wife stuffs me so full of food I'm likely to get even bigger."

It was dark now, and Yahiko knew it was time for him to head back to the Aioya. Big had to lock up and do his rounds. By now Sano would've taken Kenshin and Aoshi and possibly the cooks Shiro and Kuro, to the gambling district. It was safe to return.

He slipped off the engawa and got to his feet, adjusting the strap of the shinai on his chest.

"See you tomorrow?" he asked nonchalantly.

"Tomorrow," the larger man agreed.

Yahiko slipped out of the temple gate and down the streets of Kyoto, smiling at his memory of a story the guard told him of Hijikata's rage when one of the young shinsengumi recruits had discovered his stash of haiku and read them to the other recruits.

He paused by a lantern shop, watching the light dancing behind the paper spheres as the shopkeeper lit more of the candles to entice people to buy this most ancient of light sources. Shrugging his shoulders, which strained the sleeves of his too-tight yellow gi, he turned away and kept going down the street. He was wearing his old gi because Kenshin hadn't gotten around to washing his nicer one that the little girl had besmirched. The washtubs at the Aioya were for table linens and baby diapers, and Kenshin had to wait his turn.

Yahiko wondered how Tsubame and Tae were doing without him. He still worked part time at the Akebeko. Being a kendo instructor was great, but it didn't pay all that well. He supposed he could do like Kaoru did and make money as a guest instructor at other dojos, but he'd never see Tsubame that way. Just the thought of her sweet face made him smile.

"Gotcha, you little creep."

Yahiko felt the strap across his chest go tight as someone grabbed his shinai from behind and used it to propel him into the mouth of an alley.

Pain exploded along his jaw as he was slammed face first against the rough plaster wall of a building, the uneven surface abrading the skin of his face.

A man's body, bigger and tensed with rage, pressed him flat against the wall. He felt the man's breath as he hissed his words into Yahiko's ear.

"Who told you to do it? Who told you to ruin my life, you little punk?"

Furrowing his brow, Yahiko thought desperately, wracking his brain for a clue as to what the man was talking about. Ruin his life? Whose life? He opened his mouth to ask, all the while trying to think of a way to slip out from the man's grasp and start fighting. He couldn't think of a thing. He was caught by the strap of the shinai and pinned against the wall. He couldn't move.

"I want his name!" the man hissed in a voice rough with malevolence.

Without giving Yahiko a chance to respond, he stepped back, pulled Yahiko off the wall by the shinai, then slammed him back against it.

Yahiko barely had a chance to close his eyes when his forehead hit the wall, his vision went white with pain, and he lost consciousness.

o-o-o

Kenshin staggered into the front entrance of the Aioya, Sano's arm draped across his shoulders, with Aoshi trailing silently behind. That man could certainly hold his liquor. Sano had entered them both in a drinking contest and the rooster-headed fighter ended up decidedly worse for wear, while Aoshi's only indication he'd been drinking was his air of intense concentration on walking.

"Sano, please try to be a little quieter," Kenshin admonished, as the taller man stumbled, sending the both of them against the Aioya's doorframe.

"S..s…sorry," Sano apologized, his voice slurred with drink.

"Kenshin?"

Kenshin raised his head and saw Kaoru running lightly down the stairs, candle in hand. She was dressed in her sleeping yukata, with her hair coming out of her braid. Behind her was Misao, holding the baby against her shoulder and patting it on the back as it gurgled and burped.

"Kaoru? Why are you still up?"

He'd told her not to wait up, that Sano was taking them out for the evening, and apart from rolling her eyes and asking him to make sure Sano didn't end up dead in a ditch somewhere, she hadn't reacted much. Since Sano returned from China there'd been several 'Guys night out's and when Kaoru realized that Kenshin wasn't about to let Sano talk him into drinking more than he ought to, she'd relaxed and stopped fussing about it.

"It's Yahiko. He's missing! He left around dinner time and never came back." Kaoru's voice hitched with fear. Being around Misao's baby was bringing out her maternal instincts. Kenshin hated it when Kaoru was afraid.

"He's never been this late before. If only I knew where he was going!" she said, her voice cracking with concern.

Misao stopped patting the baby's back and used her free hand to pat Kaoru on the shoulder. "Yahiko'll be fine. He knows how to take care of himself," she reassured her friend. "He's probably sowing some wild oats in the Gion district."

"He wouldn't do that! Not when he's got Tsubame waiting for him at home!" Kaoru sounded shocked.

"Gion district? We going out again?" slurred Sano, managing to get his feet situated so he was standing relatively upright, though he kept an arm over Kenshin's shoulders for balance.

"Yahiko is NOT in the Gion district!" hissed Kaoru, thumping down the last few steps to end up on the landing so she could glare at Sano more effectively. "I don't know where he's been going."

"I do."

Kenshin slipped out from under Sano's arm, turned and pushed the fighter's torso gently against the wall, making sure he was propped up before turning back to his wife.

"Don't worry, Kaoru. I'll go find him."

It hadn't been that hard the last time Kaoru sent him off to find Yahiko. He'd been lucky, because Yahiko had made quite an impression on a little girl and her mother, and they'd been able to put him on Yahiko's trail, which led him to a Shinto shrine with a helpful shrinekeeper who told him he'd given Yahiko directions to Nishihonganji temple.

"Do you want any help?" asked Aoshi, enunciating each word clearly and precisely with the care and concern of someone trying very hard not to slur his speech.

"No, thank you Aoshi, I will be fine on my own." Kenshin replied, hiding a smile.

"If you change your mind, all of the Oniwaban's intelligence sources are at your disposal!" Misao promised grandly, sweeping her arm in a dramatic gesture that got the baby crying again. "Isn't that right, Aoshi?" she asked her husband, while trying to shush the baby at the same time.

"Hmmm," affirmed the tall ninja.

"I'll go find him too!" Sano offered, pushing off from the wall to stand, swaying blearily and precariously.

"That's alright Sano, I need you to stay here in case Yahiko comes back."

"OK Kenni, I'll stand guard here for you. I won't let you down!" promised Sano. Then he swayed backwards, hit the wall, and slid down it to land in an untidy heap on the floor, and began to snore.

"Go back to bed, Kaoru. I'll bring Yahiko home, that I will."

Blue eyes met violet ones for a moment, then Kaoru nodded, turned and made her way past Misao up the steps.

"Aoshi? Are you coming?" Misao asked.

"Yes," said her husband simply, and stepped carefully over Sano's outstretched legs to follow his wife upstairs.

Kenshin touched his sakabatou gently, and disappeared out the doorway and into the night. He knew where he had to go. He just hoped against hope that his past wasn't coming back to haunt the people he cared about yet again.

o-o-o

Nishihonganji Temple was wreathed in shadows when Kenshin arrived. The gate was locked, so he vaulted the wall, perched on top of the tiled summit, then dropped, landing knees bent on the walkway on the other side. As he straightened, Shimada Kai appeared around the edge of the main building.

"Where is Yahiko?" Kenshin asked, keeping his voice steady and low, dropping the warm tone he used as a rurouni.

The security guard crossed his arms and stood, feet apart, meeting Kenshin's gaze without flinching.

"I haven't seen him since he left earlier this evening."

They stared at each other, enemies from times past, and the memories of that time suddenly lay between them. Shimada was the first to break the silence.

"Do you doubt my word, Battousai?"

Kenshin searched the man's face, and saw anger, but no guile in it. "No," he answered softly. "I do not doubt you, Shimada Kai, and I go by Himura Kenshin now."

Shimada grunted and rocked back on his heels. "So the kid's gone missing, eh?"

"Yes." Kenshin relaxed his muscles and walked up to the larger man. "He didn't come home tonight."

Letting him come near, the security guard kept his arms crossed and gazed down at the red haired swordsman. Kenshin was still not forgiven for doubting him.

"He's been coming here to listen to my stories." Shimada stated. "He usually leaves right after dark."

The big man glanced past Kenshin towards the temple gate, as if envisioning the last time he'd seen Yahiko go through them, then he glanced back at Kenshin, the expression in his eyes a tad softer, but still challenging. "You didn't tell him I was shinsengumi. Why?" he asked gruffly.

"I figured it was your business," Kenshin returned mildly.

Shimada narrowed his eyes a bit, and then lowered his arms slowly. "I'll help you find him. My shift is over in a few minutes anyway. Let's go."

And that was how Kenshin found himself at the side of the massive ex-shinsengumi, wending his way through the narrow streets of Kyoto. Shimada changed out of his uniform into a nondescript gi, haori coat, and hakama and led the way. Kenshin noticed that the larger man kept his holstered gun strapped to his waist. The gun and his western style shoes were the only two things that stayed with him when he changed out of his uniform and into his street clothes.

Strolling the streets of Kyoto next to Shimada was like walking beside a mountain. The early morning crowd of workers on their way to open their shops parted around them like water from a mountain stream when faced with a huge boulder. Kenshin found it refreshing to not worry about being jostled. There were perks to being large.

Shimada didn't seem to notice. He kept his face grave as he stopped off to talk to various people along a route that meandered through the city. Noodle vendors, street sweepers, beggars, and barkeeps all told the same story. No one had seen a boy in a faded yellow gi. No one had heard of such a boy being robbed or murdered.

The last stop, a truly seedy looking inn with a drunk laying face up in the street in front, was when Shimada admitted defeat. Leaving Kenshin at the door, the big man shed his shoes and padded softly across the floor to a very fat man sitting at a low table with several unsavory characters in various states of inebriation lounging around him.

They spoke for a few minutes, then the fat man laughed briefly, his jowls shaking, but without an ounce of humor in the cold expressionless eyes stuck like dark pickled plums in his pasty-fleshed face. Then the man raised a hand sharply, dismissively, and Shimada turned around and walked quickly and heavily to the door.

"Any luck?" Kenshin asked softly, already reading the answer in Shimada's face, tight with disappointment.

"No. And Miwaki knows every crime in this district before it happens. Whatever happened to Yahiko, the Yakuza and the petty criminals didn't do it."

"So what now?"

Shimada merely shook his head and began to walk away from the tavern. "I don't know. We'll have to look ourselves. There's nothing else we can do."

Kenshin sighed. Kyoto was a big city, and Yahiko was, for all intents and purposes, still a stranger to it. Kenshin's long night was turning into a very long day as well.

TO BE CONTINUED…


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I don't own Rurouni Kenshin, plot or characters

**A/N: Not that it matters much, but Osaka was the main port used by Kyoto. Goods unloaded from ships at the Osakan docks were floated up canals extending from Osaka to the city. Knowing that could make the conversation Yahiko overhears a bit more comprehensible.**

CHAPTER FOUR

Yahiko woke up aching. His face and jaw felt puffy and throbbed in unison. He was sitting on a rough wooden floor in what looked like a storage shed of some sort. His arms were bound tightly to his side, the ropes biting into his chest and biceps. More rope bound his feet together at the ankles, forcing his anklebones together uncomfortably. His head felt as if it were about to split open at the seams.

He could hear a burst of raucous laughter from outside the shed, and he pressed his ear against the rough wood planks of the shed's wall in an attempt to hear more.

"So we're set for tomorrow, then?" It was the voice of the man who'd captured him. There was a swishing sound like liquid sloshing around in a jug.

"Yeah, I can take you and your cargo to Osaka tomorrow night. I know these canals like the back of my hand." The other voice was lower, with an Osakan accent.

"And this sea captain friend of yours at the Osaka docks, he won't ask too many questions, right?"

The Osakan laughed and the sound and smell of a sake jug being shared between the two men came to Yahiko's ears through the thin planking.

"Pay him what you're paying me, and he'll gut the kid and dump him out to sea for you too if you'd like."

"No!" Yahiko's captor burst out. "I've got other plans for him."

"Calm down," growled the Osakan. "Just be sure he's gagged and rolled up in a carpet when I come for you tomorrow. It's not far to the dock, but we'll still have to carry him a ways. Once you're both on the fishing boat in the open seas it won't matter."

"I'll do my part," promised the first man. "Just don't you be late."

The Osakan grunted and moved away, his heavy footsteps growing fainter.

The sound of liquid sloshing inside the sake jug came again, and Yahiko could hear swallowing sounds, then there was a 'clunk' that startled him as the man fell against the wall of the shed.

Swallowing, Yahiko tried to think through the haze of pain in his head. If the guy who'd kidnapped him was drunk, then maybe he had a chance of escaping. He shifted his weight, and pulled his feet closer to his bottom and pressed his back against the wall. Pushing against the planks for leverage, he tried to get up. He got his rear about two inches off the ground when a wave of dizziness and nausea came over him with such force that he dropped back down with a grunt.

Now it felt like someone was driving an iron spike through his brain. Maybe getting up wasn't such a good idea.

Eventually the pain lessened, and Yahiko let his head fall back gently against the wood planks at his back. The man, whoever he was, was still drinking at intervals as he puttered around the outside of the shed, moving things against the walls and muttering indistinctly.

The muttering grew in volume and intensity, and at last the man opened the shed door with such force that it rattled.

The sudden rush of light filling the shed made Yahiko wince. The man, who was at first an indistinct black form, began to take shape as he marched through the dust motes which swirled in the air, illuminated by the late afternoon sun.

Yahiko had slept away the night and most of the next day. He only had a second to realize this when his head snapped to the side, as his captor's hand came down hard against his face in a powerful slap.

"Uhn." Yahiko couldn't help the grunt of anguish when the already injured right side of his face hit the wall. He pulled his head weakly back to center and blinked up at the man leaning forward to stare down at him.

His captor was anything but impressive. He was a thin man, unshaven, middle-aged with grey hair at his temples, and spindly legs set widespread apart and protruding beneath a plain grey kimono. Thrust into the obi belt at his waist was a gun.

The man was of average height, maybe a head taller than Yahiko, with a gaunt face that would have been ordinary if not for the hateful expression on it. He held his jug of sake in his left hand so tightly that his knuckles were white.

Yahiko could smell the sake on the man's breath as the drunk leaned over to speak to him. "Bet you never thought you'd see me again, did you? But I saw you first, walking down the street here in Kyoto like you owned the place."

"Who are you?" It was unnerving, to hear his usually loud and normal sounding voice come out in a ragged whisper.

The man's face convulsed in rage. "Don't play stupid with me, boy."

Yahiko's eyes narrowed. He'd been bashed into a wall, tied up, and confronted by a guy who smelled like a sake distillery. Suddenly angry, he gritted his teeth against the pain he knew would come from the effort, and yelled, "I don't know you! Get that through your thick head!"

He was already wincing at the redoubled pain of his headache when the man swung his hand up by his shoulder in preparation. Yahiko tensed up, waiting for the blow, but the man never completed the downward swing. Instead, he narrowed his bleary, bloodshot eyes at Yahiko.

"You really don't remember, do you?" he asked incredulously. "You ruined my life and you don't even remember it."

Panting hard against the blazing pain behind his eyes, Yahiko answered. "I've never seen you before, mister."

The man pulled back and snorted.

"Yes you have. Years ago, on Sanjo Bridge in Edo you picked my pocket. I lived in that city all my life, I knew what a pickpocket felt like, and when your hand slipped into my kimono sleeve I knew exactly what you were up to, but when I checked my coins they were still there so I let it go. I didn't realize until later that you hadn't taken something out, you'd put something in. It was a letter from a Yakuza boss named Tanishi saying that I'd taken a bribe from them. When I got to work, the cops were waiting for me because of an 'anonymous tip'. They searched me, found the letter, and I was fired from work that same day. I was disgraced. My fiancee's family banned me from their house. I couldn't see Chiyo to tell her it wasn't true. They married her off to someone else. No one would hire me because they all thought I was on the take. And it's your fault; you did this to me. Now you're coming back to Edo with me to confess to my old employer. At long last I can clear my name and you and Tanishi are going to jail. That bastard is going to pay at last."

Yahiko stared, openmouthed, at the man. His eyes shone with a sort of frantic exultation that had nothing to do with the sake he'd consumed.

"You're crazy," he whispered. "Tanishi is dead. He was killed years ago. Yeah, I used to work for his Yakuza organization when I was a kid, but I don't anymore. Tanishi's dead." Yahiko stated it again. "You can't get revenge from a dead man."

The man's mouth twisted, then hardened into a straight line. He leaned over Yahiko, grabbed the collar of his yellow gi, and shouted, "I don't care if he's dead, you're still going to Edo to clear my name."

He shook Yahiko, then dropped him back against the wall and threw his sake jug to the floor where it broke into pieces, spilling the pungent liquor on the floor. The man stared down at his lost sake for a moment, then stormed out, shutting and bolting the shed door behind him.

It took all Yahiko's concentration to avoid throwing up after his head stopped ringing from the shaking he'd got. Sighing, he let his chin drop and tried to gather his thoughts as his stomach roiled and protested.

He remembered the job now, because it was rare that Tanishi ordered a specific victim to be robbed. He just wanted Yahiko out picking as many pockets as possible, the more the better, but that day he'd called Yahiko in for special instructions.

Tanishi's underlings showed Yahiko a drawing of a man, told him what bridge he used to get home, and handed him a piece of folded paper to put in the guy's kimono sleeve. Yahiko thought it was weird, but did as he was told. He'd learned not to ask questions. Questions led to beatings, and he'd already been beaten enough to be wary of Tanishi's crew. He never found out what happened to his victim until today.

Soon after that, he'd picked the pocket of a certain red headed swordsman, and his life changed forever because of it.

Kenshin.

What would Kenshin think of him now? Trussed up like a package for shipping, too weak to stand up on his own. He was a disgrace to his samurai lineage. Worst of all, was what Tsubame would think of him. How could he protect her? How could he ever look her in the face and tell her he loved her and wanted to be with her forever if he couldn't even protect himself from a middle-aged crazy man? Did he really deserve a girl like her anyhow? He thought back to the decision he'd made. When he got home, he was going to tell Tsubame how he felt about her.

The security guard's words came back to him, 'Just tell her how you feel about her. Women like hearing that more than they like hearing about what you've done for them.' Maybe so, but Yahiko had to do this for himself, for his self-respect. He wasn't going back to Tokyo in ropes, he'd come to Tsubame as a free man.

"I'm getting out of here," Yahiko whispered to himself. "I'm getting out of here and I'm going home to Tsubame, no matter what it takes."

Ignoring his pain, he moved his rear end along the floor, until his feet made contact with one of the broken pieces of the sake jug. It was just cheap pottery, and the shards weren't even very sharp, but it was the only cutting edge in the shed, and Yahiko wasn't about to let it go to waste. Bringing his bound feet up then over, he set his ankles down on the chunk of pottery and began moving the ropes encompassing them back and forth along it.

"For Tsubame," he whispered again, and scraped harder against the pottery shard.

o-o-o

It was getting dark. Kenshin and Shimada searched the whole day, tracing and retracing every possible route between the Aiyoa and Nishihonganji Temple. There was nothing. The last person to see Yahiko was a lantern vendor who said he'd seen the young man stop to look at his wares, but as he hadn't bought anything, the vendor hadn't paid much attention.

Tired and footsore, they stopped at a noodle vendor's stall for dinner.

Kenshin lowered his head and reverently inhaled the steam from his bowl, then set to work with his chopsticks. It was years since he'd been a wanderer, but being on his feet all day walking brought back the memory of a time when he'd been footsore every day, and when each meal was a blessing, not something to be taken for granted.

Shimada gave a sound that was half laugh, half grunt. Kenshin looked over at him inquiringly.

"The way you sigh over your noodles reminds me of someone I knew in the Shinsengumi. Soba noodles were his favorite food."

Kenshin slurped the trailing noodles from his last bite into his mouth, chewed, and swallowed before responding. Very few shinsengumi members had survived the revolution. "You said 'were'. Is this person deceased?" he asked delicately, not wanting to bring sadness to the man who was giving up his free time and obviously willing to miss a night's work as well to help find Yahiko.

Shimada gave a short bark of laughter. "Not that one. It'd take more than the combined forces of Choshu and Satsuma to bring him down. He still lives in Kyoto, in a different district. He went into the police force after the war from what I heard, but now he's in private security like me. Or maybe it's just a cover, you never can tell with old spies like him."

"Oro?" Kenshin muttered around a mouthful of noodles. Old spies? Police force? Could Shimada possibly mean…?

"His name's Saitoh. I heard you two crossed swords a couple of times, back in the Bakumatsu. The way you're inhaling those noodles reminds me of him."

Kenshin choked.

"Hey, you alright?" Shimada began to slap Kenshin on the back as he coughed and swallowed convulsively.

"Shimada-san!" A street urchin ran up to Shimada, distracting him from his efforts.

Kenshin managed to get himself under control and dropped his chopsticks into his bowl as he turned to look at the child.

Dirty feet, dirty yukata with a tattered edge, an untidy mop of badly trimmed hair, and hard eyes on the lookout for a weakness to exploit, this was a child of the streets. From the various bulges in the yukata folded over his chest, he'd evidently had some success already. He was obviously a pickpocket, as Yahiko had once been.

Skidding to a halt, the kid tugged on Shimada's haori coat. "The boss man says he heard there's a canal boat captain in a bar by the Takano-gawa Canal who's bragging about the money he's getting for transporting some kid to Osaka. He said to come and tell you."

Shimada reached into his gi sleeve and flipped the kid a coin.

The urchin grabbed it out of the air, gave a mirthless grin, and disappeared into the crowd.

"Looks like Miwaki came through after all," Shimada said ponderously, eyes tracing the urchin's retreat between the people walking the streets returning home or on their way to spend their money on nighttime amusements.

Kenshin allowed his gaze to follow Shimada's, and saw the boy bump 'accidentally' into a slightly drunk pedestrian, then disappear into an alley. The drunk tottered on.

"That boy…" Kenshin began softly.

Shimada gave a sharp sigh and shoved away from the noodle vendor's counter. "He's one of Miwaki's kids. I've had to run him off the Temple grounds a couple of times." He turned a tired, sad face to Kenshin. "He's the best pickpocket Miwaki has, and he knows it." Shimada sighed again. "You can't save them all, you know?"

"Yes, I know."

You couldn't save every street kid, every lost soul, but Yahiko had been saved from the short brutish life of a Yakuza underling. Whatever it cost, Kenshin would save him again, as many times as he needed it.

"Let's go."

Slipping off his stool, Kenshin allowed Shimada to lead the way through the darkening streets.

o-o-o

The man came into the shed once more, a couple of hours later, bearing a bowl of miso soup. He still looked a bit worse for wear, but there was no sake smell on his breath as he knelt by Yahiko and held the bowl to his mouth to let him drink.

"Thanks, mister." Yahiko muttered grudgingly. He kept his legs out in front of him, extended over the pottery shards, hiding them.

"Oh shut up," growled the man. His eyes were still bloodshot, and his gaunt face was thrown into sharp relief by the light of the sunset coming in through the open door of the shed. The unforgiving sun picked out the hollows under his eyes and the wrinkles beginning to trace sharp trenches between his nose and mouth.

Curious, Yahiko glanced out the open door and saw a long yard with a vegetable garden on one side of a straight dirt path, and a graveled expanse on the other. It was all utilitarian, no decoration or beauty in it, and it was bordered on each side by a bamboo fence. At the end of the long yard was a small one-story structure, a house.

"If you're thinking of yelling for help, forget it," the man told Yahiko. "There's an abandoned warehouse on one side of us, and nothing but weeds and the canal on the other. There's no one around to hear you."

"I wasn't thinking of yelling!" Yahiko told him indignantly. "I was just…uh…admiring your garden." The canal was out, unless he could figure out a way to free his arms that took a lot less time than rubbing the rope against pottery shards that kept rolling around. As it was, if he fell into the canal with his feet free but his arms still tied up, he'd drown. That left the warehouse side. Surely an abandoned warehouse would have something sharper to use to cut the ropes around his torso.

"Yeah, right." The man gave a snort of disbelief, his sarcasm evident in his tone. He got to his feet, and as he did so, a bit of paper fell out of his kimono and onto Yahiko's legs.

It was a photograph, creased and faded, but the picture on it was still clear to see. It was a woman in traditional kimono sitting on a bench by a pedestal with a flower arrangement on it. Yahiko only caught a quick glimpse, because the man swore and snatched it away.

Without another word, he strode over to the doorway and walked through, shutting the door behind him. The shed had a bit of a porch in front. Yahiko had a view of it through a crack where one of the door planks had splintered next to the doorjamb. Through the crack he saw the man sink down onto the porch and hold the picture up to the fading light.

"Chiyo." The man breathed the woman's name softly, but Yahiko heard it, and saw the expression on the man's profile as he gazed at the picture of his ex-fiancee. The sheer misery on his face was too much to bear.

Yahiko looked away. After another minute, he heard the man get up and retreat down the garden.

So what if he felt sorry for the guy? It didn't matter. At least that's what Yahiko told himself. He had a job to do, and his own girl to get back to. Yahiko lifted his ankles and brought them down again on the bits of pottery on the shed floor. He'd managed to jam one of the shards in a knothole on a plank so the sharpest bit was upwards. Pinning his hopes on it, he began to move his ankles back and forth over it. After a few minutes, he gave a triumphant grin. He felt a strand on one of the ropes give.

Setting his mouth in a determined line, he got back to work.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I don't own Rurouni Kenshin characters or plot.

CHAPTER FIVE

The last strand of rope broke just as Yahiko heard his captor's footsteps outside the shed.

There was no time. No time to hide the pottery shards or the fact that the ropes which had once bound his ankles were lying in an untidy pile over the shards.

The porch outside the shed creaked as the man stepped on it.

Swallowing a curse, Yahiko bent his legs and got his feet under him, gathering himself for launch.

The door swung open.

o-o-o

They found the house just where the captain described. Once upon a time it had been a small cottage in a group of homes backing onto the canal path. Over time the other homes had been demolished to make way for a warehouse, which had since fallen into disuse.

Only this house remained, mainly because it was on the side of the canal by a short but steep rock face which was impractical for building a dock. The abandoned warehouse with its ruined dock lay on the other side of the house and the old footpath was blocked off so pedestrians had to use the street to get around that area of the canal.

Unlike the warehouse, the small cottage was in good repair, though it could have used a fresh whitewash or coat of paint. The captain, too drunk to care who was asking, told them that the boy he'd been hired to transport to Osaka was being kept in a shed in the back. A gentle tap on the back of his neck by the butt of Shimada's gun, and the captain was left slumbering unnaturally at his table in the bar.

By mutual decision, Kenshin and Shimada avoided the house. From the light in the front window and the smell of rice cooking, someone was home. They'd deal with whoever it was later. Their first priority was freeing Yahiko.

They jumped the barrier blocking off the footpath and crept down it towards the side fence. For a large man, Shimada moved practically soundlessly, crouching down until his head was at the same level as Kenshin's. When they reached the rock wall jutting down from the fence, Shimada knelt without being asked and made his hands into a stirrup for Kenshin.

Not wanting to hurt the man's feelings, Kenshin stepped onto Shimada's palms and allowed the giant to heave him up. He could have jumped it by himself, but didn't want Shimada to think he didn't appreciate the gesture.

Kenshin landed on a small rim of weeds that grew on the apex of the rock face, and clung to the bamboo fence. Turning his head to look back, he saw Shimada scramble up the rock, shoes making only the faintest of whispers against its hard surface. Soon Shimada was by his side, balancing on the same tiny rim of dirt and foliage.

Kenshin jerked his head toward the bamboo fence, reached up on tiptoe and grasped the circular top of one of the bamboo posts, then vaulted, swinging his legs and body up and over the fence to land in a crouch on the other side.

He was in a vegetable patch, bushy bean plants trailing up a serviceable lattice at his back along the fence, and daikon radish tops poking out of the soil at his feet. In a moment, Shimada appeared over the fence too. It swayed a bit under his weight, but held as he too swung his body over the top and landed next to Kenshin.

Light blazed out in a rectangle across the yard as the back door of the cottage swung open. A man appeared in the doorway, carrying a tray with food on it. He kicked the door closed behind him and advanced across the yard.

Instinctively, Kenshin and Shimada both shrank down among the bean trellises and stayed still, watching. Before the door shut behind him, cutting off the illumination, they'd seen the hilt of the gun stuck in the man's obi.

They followed him with their eyes as he walked dead center down the long yard towards the shed at the far end. He passed them without noticing.

At the shed, he hefted the tray up and out of the way in his left hand as he used his right to unbar the door. Stepping back on the two foot wide shed porch, he let the door swing open, and brought the tray back to chest level.

That's when Yahiko exploded from the shed, catching the man in the torso and sending him and the tray of food falling backwards off the porch and onto the ground.

The man hit the ground with a grunt and lay flat, stunned, but Yahiko kept going, rolling off the man's body and to his feet. The boy hurtled forward, arms bound at his sides and legs pumping along the dirt path bisecting the center of the yard. He kept his head down, as if he still had someone in his path he was intent on tackling.

Kenshin was moving forward the minute he saw Yahiko emerge from the shed and begin running. He made it to the dirt path in seconds, catching Yahiko around the waist as he tried to run by, allowing the boy's momentum to swing the kid's body off its feet.

Yahiko gave a strangled cry, and Kenshin grunted. He'd forgotten how much bigger Yahiko had grown. The days when he could have slung the scrawny boy-child over his shoulder by hooking the collar of Yahiko's gi on the top of his sakabatou sheath were long over.

"Yahiko, it's me. It's Kenshin. You're safe now."

"Kenshin?" Yahiko's voice came incredulously.

Kenshin set him down on his feet, keeping his arm across the kid's waist to steady him as Yahiko craned his head back to look at him. The side of his face was bruised and puffy, and there was a streak of dried blood along his jaw from a nasty scrape, but apart from that Yahiko seemed unharmed. Kenshin breathed a short sigh of relief.

"Gimme that boy!" From over Yahiko's shoulder, Kenshin saw the man at the shed had rolled to his knees and was pointing a gun at him.

"No." The security guard's tone was low, commanding, and brooked no argument.

Shimada's gun was out as well, and he was standing, feet shoulder width apart, both hands on his weapon in a way that bespoke training and competence.

"Drop your gun," the giant of a man ordered harshly.

Kenshin felt Yahiko step away from him so he could turn around to face his captor.

The man's gun wavered, but didn't drop.

"I'll shoot," threatened the man desperately. "I've got nothing left to lose." His eyes were white and wild in the starlight.

Kenshin dropped his hand to the hilt of his sakabatou and prepared to move, transferring his weight to the balls of his feet and beginning to lean forward in anticipation of moving.

"That's your decision," Shimada told him coldly.

"Don't shoot!"

Kenshin glanced over at Yahiko, who'd moved a pace forward, arms still bound at his sides, to shout out his request.

"Stay out of this, kid." Shimada told him, his eyes never leaving the man kneeling in the dirt, gun leveled between Kenshin and Yahiko.

"I'm not a kid! This is my fault." Yahiko burst out.

Shimada ignored him, standing statue-like, his weapon aimed at the man by the shed.

Yahiko took a few quick steps forward and then cut over to stand in between Shimada and the man by the shed.

Perplexed, Kenshin began to admonish him softly. "Yahiko, I don't think you know what…."

Yahiko silenced him with a look. Kenshin recognized that fierce determination, and let the end of his sentence trail off.

"This is my responsibility, Kenshin. You can't help me this time."

The scrawny pickpocket had disappeared. In his place stood a man, young, but old enough to know his own mind and make his own decisions. Though it killed Kenshin to know that decisions could be made mistakenly, that consequences were often serious, and miscalculation could mean death, he had to respect the man Yahiko had become. He nodded, and let his hand fall from his sakabatou. If any harm came to Yahiko there would be consequences for the one who harmed him, he promised himself silently, and settled on his heels to watch.

Shimada growled and kept his gun up, but didn't speak.

Yahiko deliberately turned his back on his friends and took several more paces toward the man, stopping a few feet from him, and ignoring the gun trained on the center of his chest.

"You're right," he told the man softly. "I did something boss Tanishi told me to without knowing why. I owe you for that."

"I know why," the man said bitterly. "I was a clerk in a government shipping office. A Yakuza henchman approached me, wanting me to be their spy, to 'fix' certain records at the office. I refused. This was their revenge."

Yahiko swallowed, memories of his own time with the Yakuza sweeping back. He knew firsthand of the poverty that led people to turn to the Yakuza, to give up on themselves and let someone else order them around and run their life. The criminal organization was used to having an iron grip on the fish in their net. What the man said made sense. Bastards like Tanishi always hated it when one of their fish got away. He lifted his chin and stared the man in the eye.

"I'm sorry. But if you want to shoot someone, you should shoot me, not Kenshin, and not Big. He's just a nice old guy trying to protect me."

"Old?" came a strangled exclamation from the security guard behind Yahiko. He ignored it and went on.

"Look, I'm sorry I ruined your life back in Edo, but I was stuck in that shed all day. I've seen your tools, and your garden. You've got your own house, and you're dressed nice. For someone with a ruined life you look like you've got it pretty good."

The man's face scrunched up, stifling some sort of strong emotion, then it evened out and he stared back at Yahiko, and began to speak in a voice that was low and angry.

"I survived. So what? I moved to Kyoto and changed my name. After the Bakumatsu peasants could create their own last names so it was nearly impossible for my new employer to check my background, but the name I use isn't mine. It's not my life here I want, I want my old one, I want my old life back."

Yahiko closed his eyes at the sound of raw pain in the man's voice. He opened them again and let his own remembered pain from that time in his life show through.

"I can't do that. I wish I could. All I can do is go back to Tokyo with you and tell your old boss and the cops what I did, but I can't change the past." He gave a short, emotional sigh, then said again, "I wish I could."

The man gaped at him for a minute, and Yahiko was shocked to see tears come into his eyes. He threw his gun down on the ground much the same way he had when he'd thrown the sake jug on the floor in the shed, and grabbed the hair at his temples with both hands, screwing his eyes shut.

"Liar!" he shouted, turning his face so Yahiko wouldn't see him break down, but it was too late. Deep sobs wracked the man's body.

Yahiko didn't have a clue what to do. He shifted his weight and continued to stare in embarrassment, at the man who he should have hated, but couldn't.

"Leave! Just get out of here and go! Go!" The man reached down and threw a clump of dirt at Yahiko.

Yahiko let the dirt hit the ropes around his chest, then he lowered his head respectfully, turned, and walked back to Shimada and Kenshin. Without a word, he passed them and kept going down the path, skirting the house and treading the narrow passage along its side between the house and the bamboo fence until he came out on an empty street. He knew that the broken man crying on the ground behind him wouldn't take up his gun again. The street was deserted, shadowed, and still. He waited there and a minute later Kenshin and Big came up behind him.

The ropes at his back shifted, biting into his chest more firmly, then released and fell away as Kenshin slipped the dull side of his Sakabatou up by Yahiko's spine and pulled, the sharp edge of his blade cutting through the ropes. Kenshin resheathed his blade with a 'snick' and came to stand beside Yahiko.

"Now I know what guilt feels like," Yahiko said bitterly. "Does it ever get any better?" he asked, looking over at the red headed swordsman who'd once been the most notorious manslayer in the Bakumatsu.

"No," Kenshin answered softly, violet eyes tinged with a sad honesty. "But it gets more bearable as you go on. You learn from it that the best way to atone is to live right and help others."

And Yahiko understood at last, truly understood, why it had taken Kenshin so long to marry Kaoru, to accept the happiness that she offered.

He wasn't Kenshin. He wasn't going to let his past keep him from going forward with Tsubame, but he understood.

"True," said the security guard.

Yahiko tipped his head back and saw the big man looking down at him. In the yard, by the shed, Big's face had been that of a stranger's, expressionless, implacable. It was back to normal now, a neutral expression with a twinkle in his eyes. The twinkle deepened as Big bent his neck down so Yahiko could see his face better. It was an uncomfortable position to be in, so Yahiko turned completely around to face him, sighing a little at the reminder of how short he was.

"Thanks for coming to help me." Yahiko told him.

"No problem, we old guys have some use after all," the security guard answered with a touch of rueful humor in his voice.

Yahiko flushed. "Sorry about that, I just didn't want him to shoot you."

Big brushed it off. "No problem. See you tomorrow?"

"Yeah. I'd like that."

"Tomorrow, then. But for now I've got to go, I'm late for work." Nodding at Yahiko and Kenshin, Big smiled and set off down the street.

Yahiko watched him go, then moved his head and saw Kenshin watching him too. He'd just had a moment of true understanding with a man he'd both envied and idolized for years. What now?

Kenshin smiled and rubbed the back of his head. "We'd better be getting back to the Aioya, Yahiko. Kaoru will have my head for being so late bringing you back." He grinned again, and Yahiko found himself grinning in return.

The lovable rurouni side of Kenshin was back, and Yahiko was glad for it. He didn't think he could take another emotional outburst. They set off down the street together, walking silently and comfortably as only old friends can.

o-o-o

The next morning Yahiko woke before dawn. He hadn't taken the sleeping medicine Misao tried to pour down him the night before. He didn't want to be drowsy for what he had to do.

Slipping through the streets of Kyoto, he retraced his steps from last night and found his way to his captor's house. Dawn was just breaking when he made it to the man's front door. Taking a deep breath, he steeled himself and knocked.

The man opened the door and gasped sharply.

"Good morning." Yahiko bowed low at the waist and remained bent.

"You? What are you doing here?"

The man's voice sounded shocked, but not angry. Yahiko rose.

"I came to apologize. And I wanted to let you know that I'm going back to Tokyo soon, and when I do, I'll go to the police, and your old boss at the shipping office too if you give me his name, and I'll tell them. I'll clear your name, I…"

Yahiko stopped in the middle of his prepared speech as the man started shaking his head.

"You don't have to do that. You were right, what you said last night. I have a good life here. My new name isn't so bad. It's time I let go of the past and moved on."

"But what about Chiyo?" Yahiko blurted out, then could have kicked himself when he saw pain flash in the older man's eyes.

"Chiyo married someone else. I heard that she has children now. I can't go back and expect her to drop everything if she finds out that I was innocent all those years ago. That dream is over. I have to think up new dreams now."

"Oh."

There was a silence, then the man spoke. "If anything, I should be the one apologizing to you. I had a really bad day at work. I lost a promotion I thought I was getting and I went out and had a few drinks. My friends tell me I'm a mean drunk, and I guess they're right," he said sheepishly, staring down at the floor. "I saw you on the street and it was like fate handed me a way to fix everything that had gone wrong in my life. I never bothered to think about why you did it, but I realize you were just a kid back then. I guess I wanted revenge. I'm sorry."

"It's OK," Yahiko told him, uncomfortable with the way the man was abasing himself.

There was another silence, then the man raised his head. "Oh, I have something of yours!"

Reaching back into the house beside the door he brought out Yahiko's shinai, with the strap still attached. "Here. Take it."

"Thanks!" Yahiko grabbed it and slung it over his shoulder.

The man gave a sad little half smile. "It suits you."

Yahiko smiled back. "Thanks."

"Well," the man glanced back inside his house. "I'd better get ready for work. I sent word I was sick yesterday, but I'm sure they're expecting me today."

Realizing the man was standing in his doorway in his sleeping yukata, Yahiko flushed. "Oh, sorry. I'll go." He began to back away.

"Don't be," said the man. "I'm glad you came."

Yahiko stopped. "So am I."

"Well then. Have a good life," the man said, stepped back, and slowly shut the door.

"You too," whispered Yahiko, and set off down the street, back towards the Aioya.

He was halfway back to the Aioya before he realized he'd never got the guy's name. He'd never know who he wronged all those years before, and he wondered how many nameless victims Kenshin had to carry around in his memories.

Yahiko knew he'd never forget the man's face, or what he'd done to him. He hoped Kenshin was right. From now on, he'd try to live the best life he could, not to fulfill some outdated samurai code, or to assuage his guilt, but because it was the right thing to do, and the way he, Yahiko Myojin, chose to live his life. He'd take the man's advice, let go of the past, and create new dreams for himself, ones that included Tsubame. He'd also take Kenshin's advice and start living to help others.

Maybe he'd start by volunteering to help Misao with the diapers. After all, if things went as planned with Tsubame, he'd need to know how to do it for the kids he hoped to have with her someday.

Letting a smile break across his face, he quickened his pace and headed back to the Aioya.

THE END

**A/N:** Well, this is it, end of story. Unless another plot bunny bites me soon, this'll be it from me for a while. (Work is getting insane lately) Hope you all enjoyed it!


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